


Batman Drabbles and Oneshots

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, also my writing is so meh, kill me now, my babies need help, poor batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 01:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13284132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Batman Drabbles and Oneshots

It could have been worse.

He could have shot her. Steph knew about the horrors David Cain had put her best friend, Cass, through throughout her childhood. Sure, being trapped in the closet every other night when she was little had been… scary, but he’d never really hurt her. Never even hit her, like Jason’s dad had. She had been lucky.

She could have been neglected. At least when dad was gone, mom was always there to comfort Steph, let her cry on her shoulder. Tim hadn’t had that luxury. He had been alone in his house all day, with no parent going to help after he stubbed his toe, or comforting him when a bully was mean to him. She had been lucky.

Her parents could be dead. Dick and Bruce had loving parents, but they both had to watch them die in front of them, as _children_. When dad wasn’t around, she and mom had movie nights every Monday, and she got to complain about mom embarrassing her. She had been lucky.

She could have been expected to be a criminal, like dad. Damian had been raised in the league of assassins, taught to mercilessly kill by his own mother, who barely even cared about him and forced him to live to the “standard” of a father he’d never met. Steph’s mom had always comforted her when she worried about turning out like him. Mom did her best to keep her out of dad’s “business.” She had been lucky.

…

And yet, it was hard to _feel_ lucky, as tears slipped down her face as she recovered from her nightmare.

She was 10 again, and dad was drunk again. He started by yelling about how much she ruined his life, how much he hated her. Tears burned her eyes, and she closed them, determined not to let the tears fall. He eventually got up, and grabbed her wrist, ignoring her flinch as his nails sunk into her skin. He dragged her over to the closet by the door, almost ready to fall off after so many nights of this. He grabbed the door knob, and pulled it open with a little too much force. “I never want to see you again.” He hissed, and then he threw her into the coats and slammed the door in her face.

That was when she woke up.

She closed her eyes, like in the dream. She might have been lucky, but it certainly didn’t feel like it.


End file.
